


you were loved

by roddiimus



Series: For the Love of Hermity [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Families, Civil War, Family, Family Feels, Fix-It of Sorts, Loss of Trust, Post-War, Self-Hatred, There’s plot where they”re involved but don’t worry, They just have to keep the world from crashing and burning, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trust Issues, oops a lot of plot, watchers are present but they are of my own headcanons and are not ATUS related at all!!!!, when she’s awake, xisuma has a lot of history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roddiimus/pseuds/roddiimus
Summary: “ ...were you too loved? “The Civil War left behind wounds that the Hermits can't shake. Doc and Grian know what needs to be done, and they know they'll do whatever it takes to fix their mistakes.No matter what it costs.
Series: For the Love of Hermity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614601
Comments: 47
Kudos: 156





	1. recap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Civil War takes a darker turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't let me add Grian's tag ack, I'll fix that when I'm home
> 
> WHO DOESNT LOVE SOME OLD FASHIONED CW ANGST I know I DO

There was something unique about the air around the Hermits. It wasn’t tied to one place- it followed them, like a pup chasing after the heels of its mother. Instead, it carried within the people. Within their laughter, their bright smiles, their stumbles and their faulties. It moved with them as they jumped between server and server, as pranks were set in the dark of the night, as projects were built and redstone was laid into the wee hours of the morning. It filled the air in every hug, in ever late night shared over a cup of tea, in every joking haggle made in the shopping district, eyes creased in their mirth. It passed from hand to hand, smile to smile, mind to mind.

They all felt the day it changed. They had not known it then, but ask any of them now, and their eyes would glaze, their hands would clench, their heads would turn away as they remembered The Day. It was universally unspoken. Ignored. Desperately fighting to be forgotten.

The day Mumbo lost his life to a phantom.

It seemed so...common. So normal. They would laugh about those in the days leading after, as they brought him around for a drink and a nice rest- the grind would be hard, and he deserved to give his hands and feet a break after working to salvage the tools lost into the ocean as his box shattered. And they had laughed- Grian and Iskall had, as they covered his new box in obsidian and gifted him back several copies of his prized possessions, to save him some time. An act of friendship on the surface, one that earned hugs and tears in the end. 

From there...it descended into madness.  
_Unimaginable_ madness.

It was chaos, but it was supposed to be _fun_. That was the _point_ of it all. To enjoy messing with your friends, even if it was confusing and wild and you never knew whose story you could trust with so many twists and turns. (Maybe that was where the cracks started.) Sure, Ren might have fallen off the tracks into lava, but he didn’t lose his items! And, yes, Grian might have taken Cleo’s prank due to another sign change, but he laughed about it later on!

And maybe Iskall’s castle got blown up. But they could have rebuilt that!

Right?

Right.

And _maybe_ the Stock exchange should have been laughed at, too, as heads drifted by in the water pillars and hung from the bushes. Maybe eyes should have crinkled more, hands should have loosened their fist-like grip, turning knuckles white, and never touched the gunpowder that would create explosive rockets, intending on maiming and killing their friends to get revenge, or touched the pet of their friend, intent to cause him panic and stress. But it was for fun. They were all happy.

They were _friends_.

Even as the battle lines were drawn and the ceasefire flag raised, they preached the importance of their friendship. They laughed under the white banner, waving in the ocean air, salt against their faces and sweeping their clothes, shaking hands and fists, grinning like they had just discovered the funniest joke. They chased each other across their soon to be battlefield, running between bases, cheering each other on, smiling despite the glimmer of malice in the backs of their eyes at every reminder of what was done to them.

They were happy.  
They were happy through the explosion of the flag by Concorp, through the scramble to the base, through the release of their weapons and the drawing of their swords and the snap of bowstrings against their fingers. They were happy as their friends fell beneath their swords, as the G-Team released their weapon onto the base, intent to _maim and kill and-_

They were happy as the battle came to a ceasefire- and as S.T.A.R launched their surprise attack the next day, faltered by one member in particular. They were happy, even as their eyes darkened at their home base and they turned on Mumbo, even as a punch was thrown and his eye bruised. Because it was all for fun! The G-Team could take him. It would all blow over. He would forget it by next week. They were friends. 

Accidents happened. They hadn't meant it.

It was especially for fun for Doc to his trident towards Grian, both leaders staring each other down with expressionless eyes and a white-knuckled grip. It was fun to trap their friends, each one more dangerous than the last, each other intended to hurt, to scare, to kill, all to protect fabric for a war that shouldn’t matter.

They didn’t know when it started to.

The G-Team won. They held the banners high above their heads, laughing and cheering and wrestling in the battlefield. The mirth returned. Their eyes creased in smiles and the energy passed, from hands to smiles to minds.

S.T.A.R. laughed with them. They smiled and congratulated them and cheered. Their smiles never reached their cheeks.

The bases never went away. They towered over the district, like start reminders of a tragedy that could never be forgotten. And never forgotten it was.

The warmth felt swept away, like the first wind of a winter snowstorm. It chilled one to the bone, to encounter a Hermit and to speak with them like they had done countless times before. Symbols became commonplace. Little things, carved or sewn into one’s clothes or weapons, to showcase your side. Shop signs were quick to follow, the marks come to stand for each team stark against the faded texts as they fluttered and shook in a wind. Businesses became strangely empty whenever you entered with the wrong symbol. Bases were shut up. Friends pulled themselves away, stating work or other plans, their eyes falling to the sword at your hip, jagged knife carvings stark against the grain.

They were supposed to be happy.

Their leaders were far from excused. Who else should you blame than the ones who took your hand to lead you into war? Every flaw was thrown in their face. The isolation became stronger and stronger, houses closed strong, excuses flowing like water. They tried to forget. They tried to be friends.

They tried to carry on. They tried to continue their work, their jobs, their lives, despite the divide and the distrust. But it always came back.

They built Area 77.

The hippies stepped in.

The server began to split down the middle.

And, in the back of everyones’ minds, they knew. It was never going to be the same again.

It was never going to be fun again.

Standing in front of the time machine, Doc knew what they had to do.


	2. 1

Living in the Hippie Commune was strange, to say the least. The heavy forests and tight, bright bustle was a far cry from his large, cold base in the Futuristic district. It wasn’t a _bad_ change- he enjoyed the warmth, and the close, tight-knit builds. It felt less...empty. But it was unusual. There was no salty ocean smell, no parrots fluttering around in the upper levels, no cold drafts catching in the wide, open space. Instead, it was full of rich flowers and full trees, open to the sun and heavy with nature. There was so much activity, so much to see and so much to hear.

Grian wanted to believe that was why he couldn't sleep tonight.

It made _sense_ , after all. New environments, new adjustments. He had had the same problems when he had first joined the hermits, and had to adjust to brand new surroundings and brand new people. In a way, he was doing the same all over again. The only difference was this one felt permanent.

His back hurt. He had been laying in the same, uncomfortable position for too long, and a crick had caught, making it hard for him to sit and stretch. It popped viciously as he forced his arms above his head, and he held in a sharp grunt as the movement pulled across old scarrage, damaged down through to his muscles. It was worse when he flew; it was right around his left shoulder and shoulder blade, and it made it hard sometimes to throw out his rockets if he moved his arm wrong. Mumbo and Iskall had worked with him for months to get back on his feet; Cleo had even forced him into races around the island, to make him spread his wings. No one matched his flight- but it was very humbling to have even Mumbo outrace him. _Mumbo Jumbo_.

He missed Mumbo.

He folded himself up in his thin blanket, draped over with a worn suit jacket, too big on his short frame. He remembered when he first received it, thrown across his broad shoulders as the tall man laughed in front of his redstone reveal of their logo- he had had to make it official. You couldn’t run a business, or an alliance, without a professional looking suit. Everyone knew that, Mumbo had claimed. It had hung nearly to his knees in length and the sleeves didn’t fit right, but he had worn it to every one of their early meetings, when it had been just the two of them in the infinity room.

A lot of time had passed since then. A lot of time since Mumbo has spoken to him.

Almost robotically, he reached out a hand, pulling the jacket down beneath the blanket. It was hot, nearly muggy, in the RV, but the heat of the thick black fabric could do nothing to match the cold grip holding his chest. He held it close to his body and pressed his face close. It smelled like saltwater and the acrid sting of redstone. Grian closed his eyes.

Impulse had started asking questions. It had been odd, at first, having a STAR worried over him; he honestly had not spoken to many of them post-war, at least beyond what he absolutely had to. They stayed away from Sahara, and he stayed away from their major shops if he could (It was rough, avoiding ITrade at first, but Mumbo had been his supplier for a time.) So, when Impulse had joined up with the Hippies, and had stopped him one day with a hand on his shoulder, it had nearly made him jump out of his skin. He had looked just as uncomfortable as Grian had felt, but he had held him still and asked him, in a quiet voice, if he was okay. Apparently his face was a little too dark and wilted to be healthy. He didn’t know how to explain he didn’t sleep anymore, and he didn’t want to get too friendly, so they had let it go. He needed to get better. He needed to keep questions off of his back, especially now that he couldn’t pass it off onto late nights working on Sahara.

_‘Have you forgotten what they did? Have you forgotten what you_ allowed _them to do? To me? To us? ‘_

His eyes snapped open.

_'This was all your fault.'_

He rolled over, wrapping the jacket tightly around his shoulders. They were tense.

_'If you had just kept your nose out of trouble for five minutes and not caused problems for me to begin with then this never would have happened! '_

He could see the furious eyes of his best friends- _former_ best friends- in the dark. His stomach twisted. He rolled out of bed.

On autopilot, he stumbled out of his little bedroom and across the short length of the RV. He slipped on his shoes and one of his many loose-fitting, now too-big sweaters. The longer he stayed in the tight space the more his throat closed, and he desperately pushed open the top, fighting the lock with fierce desperation. It swung open from the force and bounced against the side, squealing irritable as metal scratched along metal. He flinched, jumping down the stairs with his back turned. Out in the yard, the smoldering embers of a fire still burned, surrounded by worn logs and a scattering bundle of flowers that, at one point, he had had Ren folding into his hair, laughing like they had not in months as he struggled to deal with the tangled, windswept mess. Grian dropped down to the grass, leaning his back up against the log behind him, knees drawn to his chest. His hands trembled, and he tucked them close between his legs and his stomach, hunching down against himself.

He missed his friends. More than anything. But there really was no excuse, was there? He had started this. He had known that, told himself that, for months now. Since the end of the war, since the first star had appeared, scratched into the sign beside a shop. If he hadn't decide to play tricks on Mumbo, nothing would have changed. Everyone would have been able to stay friendly; Impulse and Tango wouldn't look like they wanted to choke one another out, Scar and Cub wouldn't be outcasted for refusing to pick a side, Sahara wouldn't have collapsed with him there.

He chuffed, a weak, sad sound, even to his own ears. At least he was being honest with himself. Honesty was the best policy, right?

He kicked at the embers with a foot, sending a bundle of old, ashen wood into the smolders. A collection of sparks splattered out, and he blinked as they reflected off of his face. He wiped his cheeks.

This should have been fun. He should have been enjoying this time with his friends, playing what amounted to a big game of cat and mouse.

Wasn’t this supposed to be fun?

Hadn’t they accepted him into the fold for that? To make things happy?

Right?

Something crunched in the foresty barrier. 

His head snapped up, hands tightening into fists. He wanted to reach for the sword at his side, but a brief moment of clarity reminded him that it was not there- his sheath was inside, safely tucked beneath his bed to avoid any teetering feet. Instead, he tensed his thinning shoulders, his hand scrambling for a stone that made up the fire pit. If he couldn’t get his sword, he could at least incapacitate. He’d learned plenty about how to make do- throughout his worlds and the war. He wasn’t going to take a respawn sitting down.

_Doc_ fell out of the trees.

Nevermind!

He was on his feet in seconds, the stone ricocheting off of a tree mere inches from his head. Anyone coming through the woods at this time of night- morning?- was nerve-wracking enough, even if they were G-Team, but _Doc? So much for calming down.’_

Could he get out of here? Was there anywhere he could go without Doc following? He swallowed hard. Maybe he hadn’t seen him yet? Could he move before he followed the stone to its thrower?

The cyborg stumbled, his footing unsteady and messy- unlike the cool, collected, dangerous man he had come to know. His eyes were wild, his outfit rumpled and messy- his trident was nearly crushed in his grip. His gaze fell to Grian, feeling as ruffled as the hybrid looked, and the smaller man swallowed, taking a step back. There went his one plan, other than ‘run for the RV and pray you don’t get stabbed first’. “ You aren’t supposed to be here, Doc. Ren told you that. You know the boundaries. “

He said nothing, but chose instead to run towards the smaller man. Grian stepped backwards, the flowers crunching beneath his shoes. Doc grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip. He made to strike at him, throat tightening and hands shaking, but his voice stopped him before he could make contact. 

“ Grian! Grian, y-you- “

He sounded...desperate.

Scared, almost.

Doc? Scared?

Their eyes met, pleading meeting terror. His grip tightened, and his face twisted. “ You have to come with me. N-now. I can’t- not now. Come on. “ He pulled on his arm.

Grian yelped as he was tugged forward, nearly losing his balance and falling into the other leader. That, he certainly didn’t want. “ Doc, what is- “

Without another word, he began being lead away, the hybrid nearly rocking on his feet as he tried to get him to move. He looked like a frightened animal' on the verge of bolting at one wrong sound. He dug his feet into the ground, and he felt his eyes grow hot with frustration and panic. “ _What is going on!_ “ He Finally shouted, then flinched, looking at the RVs. He was scared out of his mind, yes, but STAR stuck to STAR, no matter their quarrels. Ren and Impulse wouldn’t save his backside here. 

“ I found a way, “ Doc whispered. He stopped walking and looked back, grinning a weak, trembling thing. “ I found a way to fix this, Grian. “

He knew what ‘this’ meant.

He stopped fighting. His body went limp. The sting of his wrist became apparent, even over the pounding of his heart. “ ...Wh-what? “ He whispered.

“ Your machine, Grian. We can go back _further_. It can _fix_ this. We can fix this. “

And wasn’t that just the slap to the face

Grian, leader of the G-Team. Main fire starter, according to his ‘best friends.’ Terror of the server. Number one guilty party.

Creating a fix-all.

Mumbo would be so proud.


	3. 2

Grian was skinny.

No one would normally notice that. The short builder was all bulky sweater and quick movements- he never gave more than a few seconds to get a good look at him. He had too much energy to be still, it was how he had always been. But Doc now noticed how his jumper didn’t hug his chest, how his shoulders didn’t quite fit into the fabric around them. Grian was strong. When he had first joined, they had laughed and marveled at how buff he was for his size. He could carry heavy stone palettes across his back like it weighed nothing, lug blocks of concrete and quartz up the side of his tower like the lightest of feathers. Now, his arms looked slender, his collarbone jagged where his collar hung low. His wrist, which could at one point support even Xisuma’s weight to flip him, was small and bony in his grip.

Some part of his mind, tucked away, whispered ideas of how to use this; get the opposing leader before he could get him, to break the fragile bones before he could break his. He bit back at that section, shoving it down, down, back where it had come from. He was here to stop thoughts like that, not to encourage them. Even if everything he saw, albeit worrying for anyone else, screamed advantages.

He didn’t know why it had taken him so long to realize that Grian’s time machine could be repurposed for good reason, unlike its initial purchase. He had built it to help only himself. But, after long nights standing before the cobbled-together machine, Jellie insistent on cuddling in his arms, he had been hit- if he could go back a in time month, why not go further? Why not...to before the war ever began.

They caused this. They needed to fix it- together. And Grian has given him the perfect opportunity.

The tiny builder stared at him. His eyes- so brown they were almost black, he had never noticed, never been this close except to shove a trident between his eyebrows- were tired, lined with deep bags that flushed with his skin. His eyebrows knitted together  
. “ …Doc, Doc, no, listen, it’s- it’s dangerous-“

He cut him off. “ And this life we’re living isn’t? “

“ That’s...that’s not my point, you haven’t done anything like this before- “

“ And you have, and you came back alive. “ He pulled on his arm, tugging him towards the tree line once more. His resistance was not as rough as before- his feet were heavy to the ground, still digging through the dirt, but he did not actively wrestle to get away from the cyborg. His heart quickened the longer they stood there, racing for his throat. This was wasted time, time they could be using on fixing things, instead of arguing-

“ ...Do you even have what we need to run it? Even know? “

Bingo.

“ I have everything still, Grian. We kept it all. It’s all in Area 77 for-. No. We don’t have the time for this, come on. Come on- “

The builder stumbled, his undersized form falling as he was urged along. The jacket wrapped around his shoulders fell, slipping into a heap that was promptly stepped on. Satisfied that he was not going to bolt for the STAR members sleeping soundly for backup, or for the elytra hanging by the door, he let go of his wrist. Instead, he placed a hand on his back and insistently pushed him forward.

“ Wait, wait, wait, “ His feet dug in again, “ Shouldn’t I get my elytra and my sword first? “

“ You don’t need those. “

“ Wh- that’s not fair, you get yours! How do I know this isn’t some trick? “

“ If I wanted you dead, I could have already done it, respawn be damned. “

He gave him another push, for good measure. He fell into the trees.

Doc followed behind Grian, keeping a decent 3 feet between them at any given time, making sure he had his eyes on him so he couldn’t bolt. Though, he knew he wouldn’t. Not with what has at stake- he wanted this fixed as much as Doc. He could see it in his eyes-he was tired. His lively energy was gone. What was there to be happy for when all of your friends couldn't be around you without distrust? This was their only chance.

His only chance to bring Ren back to him.

He could see him continually looking back at him, and eyeing the trident strapped to his side. His arms were crossed, but that meant nothing- he had found that out in the early days of the war. You had to be quick, you had to be prepared at all times. If you had three seconds to protect yourself, you forced yourself to do it in one and a half. JGrian had been on the opposite end of his trident one too many times to truly trust him. Some part of him felt guilty- this was what he didn’t want. He was tired of having people afraid of him, tired of being the bad guy. Tired of having his friends (of...How many years?) hating one another, putting up signs and segregating their world. 

Grian was new here, even if it had been several months now. This was really all he knew, not knowing about much from before . It wasn’t fair.

He couldn’t let it continue. And if Grian could run the machine, they could both make things right. They could fix their problems. They were both just as guilty as the other for the consequences facing them, and that left them both just as responsible.

His gut twisted, and his fingers tightened onto his arms. Grian flinched at the motion, and turned to look ahead once more, squaring his shoulders. His steps sped up. Doc wanted to sigh. He had no right to- he had no one to blame for this but himself.  
Grian came to a halt, the walls surrounding Area 77 looming above the small builder. His little frame really highlighted the height of the building. He stayed back several feet, his face pinched as he stared up. He had spent weeks trying to break in here, weeks of being chased around and forced out and threatened to stay away. It would be conflicting for anyone to finally be given an invitation inside. He gave a small push to his back, gentle but guiding him forward. His muscles tensed beneath his hand, but this time he did not pull away. His pulse was beginning to race- they were so close, too close now. This was the closest they had been in a neutral manner in...well, since the war, really. 

This close to Grian, he could see it in his eyes- they were wide, and even though he was nervous next to the other leader, his hands were twisting, nervously pulling at the hem of his sweater as they approached the closed gate.

“ Does anyone else know, Doc? “

“ ...No, “ he said, quietly. 

“ ...Good. “ That was surprising. “ The less people...the better. “

“ Even Mumbo? “

There was no answer, except for the pinching of his face- was that a sore spot? But they were best friends, surely he would be interested in telling him what he was doing, be fighting to have him involved, wouldn't he? He didn’t like to be alone, not without his closest friends to share in the experience. (Especially not when those two were attached at the very hip, no matter what they did.)

Doc didn’t either, but Ren had made sure he had no choice in that matter. He pressed a hand to his chest, sore from fading bruises hidden beneath his coat. He disguised it as adjusting his collar. Grian was nonethewiser.

A pad was connected to the locked gate, and he stepped in front of Grian, hiding the keypad as he in a short passcode. Grian chuckled. “ Not much to hide when this will be gone, Doc. “

The reality suddenly hit him- all of this work would be lost. Everything he had Scar had worked for, created together, would be wiped. Who knew if they would ever get to rebuild? If they would even find the village? All of their hard work would be gone.  
But wouldn’t that be for the better? Even here, he had hurt people. He had locked up Keralis, treated him like a criminal, someone who was his friend and who had done nothing to hurt him. Would it be better if it was gone?

The gate opened. He didn’t answer, instead throwing his arm out towards the empty runway. “ Builders first. “

“ You’re so kind. “ He followed behind him, the gate sliding closed with an ominous clang.

“ So, you said you still have everything it needs to run? “ They were deep inside of Area 77 now, their faces illuminated by the cold blue security lights. Grian’s cheekbones were shadowed and fiercely lined, his eyes reflecting as he turned to look up at Doc. His stomach lurched, seeing him fully in the light. When was the last time he had really seen the other leader? Did he look different, too?

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “ Clock, buttons, lever? “ 

“ And the end rod still inside? “

He nodded. 

“ Great. Where are you keeping it? “

He led him down a wide corridor and through a set of iron doors, out into a brightly lit hallway. Grian covered his eyes. Down the path they went, past a four-way intersection of halls, and to a tightly sealed, heavily locked room, lined with glass. He watched as his eyes went wide, and he walked forward, pressing his hands to the glass like he was gazing upon a great masterpiece. He realized it had been weeks since he had seen his creation- likely his greatest redstone build ever. (Did...this even count as redstone?) He would have reacted the same way, finally seeing a build that you had put so much work and effort into after so much time. Not to mention...a build that allowed you to break space and time. Grian really was a dangerous man, if he were to put those skills to use. But he...never had really used them, had he? Never intentionally. He just liked to have fun.  
He fingered the handle of his trident, face falling. Could he say the same?

A tiny mewl from his side made him jump, and he jerked around to see Jellie standing at his side, peering up at him with wide eyes set into a smushed face. He cringed. “ Jellie, dude, no no- “

He knelt down to scoop her up, which she grumbled at. “ Give me a second, I need to- “

Grian looked back, and his face softened when he saw her. “ Aw, hi there, “ He cooed quietly, reaching out to scratch her between her ears. She leaned into his touch, purring quietly under his hand. He couldn’t help but smile. Jellie didn’t care that he was Team G. Maybe they could learn from her.

“ I’m going to put her out, she’ll head back to Scar if she can’t get to us. She’ll get bored. “ He leaned over, typing another code into the doorway. It opened with a hiss, the airlock releasing and the door sliding upwards. The blonde slipped underneath without another word, disappearing behind the machine. Doc hesitated a moment, worried about sabotage- but what reason would he have? He wanted things to change just as much as Doc did. 

Changing your mindset was hard. It was probably going to be this way for a long time. But he was willing to do it.

Especially if it brought Ren back.

He was thinking about him a lot. He missed him.

Jellie squirmed, her hind paws battering at his arms and stomach in a bid to get down. He tightened his grip on the squirming feline. “ Alright, alright, relax, dude. “

He carried her through a side door, opening into another hallway. The cat had free run of the place, so he knew she would be safe if left to wander, but he didn’t want her around in case she got hurt. He knelt down to let her go, where she chuffed angrily and fluffed her fur out at him. He pet her between the ears, traveling down to scratch at the base of her tail. She mewled quietly, arching into his hand and standing up on her hind legs to reach him. From his back pocket, he pulled out a small bag, mostly empty but holding a few of her treats. Scar had given them to him, to distract her if she was getting underfoot. He pulled one out and held it above her head, making her spin in her attempt to follow it, and then tossed it over her head. It went bouncing away down the hall and she scrambled after, slipping across the slick floor as she ran. He chuckled and stood up, watching her for a moment longer before backing up and slipping out the door. He loved that cat; he hoped he would still get to pet her once this was all over. She was sweet, if not constantly slipping where she didn’t need to be and begging for food she shouldn’t eat.

Hopefully, Ren would get to meet her too. He had never actively searched for a cat of his own, and he had joked that the cats in this world didn’t like him. He wanted to prove him wrong, because he loved cats.

“ Doc! “ Grian’s head poked out of the time machine, upside down through the bottom. His hair fell around him in a messy halo. “ Where do you keep everything? “

“ Give me a second. Does it look functional? “

He nodded, though it looked more like he was rocking back and forth. “ Everything is in place, minus the clock and the buttons. It should work as long as we’re careful. “

“ And what counts as careful? “

It would have been a clean spot for a joke, but all Grian said was, “ Just listen to me, okay? “ and disappeared back inside.   
He stared at the empty air for several seconds, then finally turned away. He pressed his hand to his chest once more, wondering if it was just the bruises that were hurting now.

Doc hopped inside of the containment unit, ducking beneath the collection of tubing and wires to a chest set into the wall. Inside were the removed materials, taken out to disable it but kept close for tests to be performed. He gathered them up into his arms. Loaded to the gills, he ducked underneath of the machine, and poked his head through the doorway.

Grian was waiting there for him, taking the items from him and disappearing across the lip. He reached and heaved himself up after him. The inside was even colder than the air of Area 77, biting through his worn lab coat and against his skin. He rubbed his metallic arm across his other, a shiver running up his spine. The blonde didn't seem affected, though it must have helped to have his sweater hanging down to his knees. He bustled about inside, placing buttons, spinning the clock to the perfect time. Watching him work was relaxing- he was always so detailed oriented, it was nice to watch things come together, even if it was just the straightening of a skewed item frame.

Grian turned to him, a question on his lips. “ I’m done, Doc. And you’re...“ 

He swallowed and, with a pause, leaned against the wall. “ You’re sure? “

“ Hum? “

“ About...all of this. We don’t know what might happen here. Or...if anything will even change. I’ve never went this far back. I don’t know what will happen to us, let alone our world. I don’t know much of anything about how this really works. “ His voice was sad, and he hunched his shoulders, as if guilty for his lack of knowledge. “ Are you sure you want to go through with it? Risk everything? “

“ Too much is at stake here. I...I can’t live like this any longer. “ His voice dropped. He had never been this open before, with next to no one. Why Grian of all people? “ I can’t let everyone keep hurting when I know we can fix things. Even...even if there are consequences. Nothing can be worse than what we’re already living in. “

“ ... Yeah. Yeah, I feel the same. “

A shadow fell, and Doc looked up. Grian was holding a hand out. It was bony and shaky, but there was the tiniest of smiles on his face. His cheeks didn’t seem like they were used to being moved like that anymore.

“ Let’s go change history, Doc. “

Having Keralis and BDubs back was a dream come true. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have other friends- he did! Kind of.-, but these two were different. They always had been. Their return had been like a breath of fresh air to the Admin, one he hadn’t felt since long before even the war- not since losing them so many years ago. It still made him feel numb and giddy with joy just knowing they were okay, and that they were back home again.

Even if Keralis’s welcome had been less than welcoming. Not for the first time, he felt a bitter stab towards Doc, one that made his stomach sour. His best friend hadn’t done anything to the man to warrant being held like a dangerous criminal. He had taken it in stride in the end, but he could not ignore the nervous flashes in his eyes whenever a room was locked, whenever a door was blocked. It made him boil inside. Hadn’t he done enough against them?

Xisuma stopped himself while he was still ahead. It wasn’t healthy to dwell like he did- False got after him enough whenever she caught him muttering. It worried her; she didn’t like seeing her teammates stressed. But he just...couldn’t help it. There was too much they had all left unsaid, and too much no one had the guts to talk about. How could he not brood about it?   
This wasn’t stopping, Xisuma.

At least his best friends hadn’t been involved. They were too sweet to have to face what they did- _flashes in the back of his mind of jaws snapping and dogs howling, blood splashing across his mask as someone who had been his friend- was his friend- collapsed in front of him, clutching at him with red-stained hands, screaming at him, pleading_ \- 

He blinked, aware at his hands were scrabbling at his mask. He pulled it off, exhaling sharply as his scars, deepset and violet, were revealed to the night sky. It was not the war that caused these- these scars came from long before he had memory of, back in the time with the tall woman with pretty white hair and the sparkling of the void. He was self conscious about them, and hated showing them off. People stared. He didn’t like them looking at him like that, not when he was supposed to be the strong one.

Keralis and BDubs had really had it lucky. He took a long sip of his tea, still slowly steaming between his hands, kept warm by the sticky night air. He had tried to explain what had happened to the wide-eyed man, but he had only shook his head and laughed, exclaiming that, “ You take your games so seriously sometimes, Shishwammy, “ before splashing a handful of water from his pool towards his visor. BDubs took it much better- he had only nodded along, a disappointed look taking in his eyes when he realized that things weren’t going to be the same anymore. But they were innocent parties- every shop accepted them, and every hermit welcomed them with wide open arms. They were universally loved.

He looked behind him, where the two aforementioned were fast asleep on the floor of Keralis’s little base, blankets strewn across the ground as makeshift beds for all three of them. Keralis was swamped by BDub’s larger form, his shadow thrown far across his body. It made him smile. Here, they could at least have a good life. They didn’t have to have scars.  
Because, after all, his face was not the only part of him that bore the marks of his sins.

He scrubbed at his cheek, the purple marks tingling angrily beneath his fingers. He tipped back his head and downed the last of his drink. Tea always helped him relax, especially after the dream he had been having. His side of the floor was still rumpled, a pillow throw against the furnaces in his mad scramble for imaginary weaponry to fend off imaginary teeth. He had no idea how they had slept through it- though, with all of the energy they had to spend, they had to recharge it somewhere. He assumed a dead sleep was that somewhere.

He let his bare feet dangle in the pool for a few more moments, before finally relinquishing the silence and getting to his feet. He shook the water off of himself. He would need to get some sleep. The smallest of the trio always found something to keep them occupied, especially if it was build related. He liked to use Xisuma to get all of the hard-to-reach places. His back was still sore from earlier in the day. He slid his helmet back into place, sliding his ventilator into its rightful spot. His breathing wheeze once, twice, before the machine adjusted and it evened out to match his tone. Keralis rolled over, throwing his arms across where Xisuma was supposed to be sleeping. He chuckled and went back inside, shutting the door behind him.

The mug went on the table by the furnaces, and he collapsed down into the blanket pile, taking care to avoid Keralis’s hand. Despite his efforts, however, his tugging on his blankets caused the man to shift, and the next thing he knew, his eyes were blinking sleepily up at him. “ Hmmm- Shwammy? “

“ Shhh, Keralis. “ Dammit. “ Go back to sleep, alright? “

“ Why ar- “ he stopped, as if trying to remember what he was asking, rubbing his face. “ Wh’ are you up? “

“ It’s okay. Just go back to sleep. I’m fine, trust me. “ He patted his arm, gently pushing him back down. He gave him an irritated look, one that looked rather adorable when he was still half asleep, but didn’t try and sit back up. His lids fluttered. “ Bu’ why? “

“ I just couldn’t sleep, friend. I’ll be alright. “

There was no answer, and when he looked over, the warmth of the covers had already lulled him back to sleep.

He held back a chuckle, smiling gently instead. He tugged a blanket over his shoulder, covering him completely before settling himself down. Even if he didn’t sleep tonight, he at least had a nice view of the sky, and the nice orange glow to it.

...Wait, orange glow?

Xisuma had no more than a moment to process, before a shockwave slammed into the house, and threw him unconscious to the sound of snapping wood.


	4. REWRITING

do you guys ever get to a point with a fic where you’ve changed your writing style so much it’s not really feasible to keep working off of what you have now?

That’s where I’ve found myself with this fic.

I’ve been in this spot before, with a fic I wrote for over 4 years. I can’t do it again.

I’m going to rewrite this- with better longer chapters. This time, I’m going to actually follow my plotline.

Please stick around. I love you all so much for your support and your love towards me. It’s been hard times lately- depression and ADHD episodes have taken me down several pegs lately- but every time I open my account I see this fic and I’m reminded of you all. We’re still here. We’re going to get to the end.

You will see the love.

Thank you. Keep an eye out, darlings.


End file.
